


Skanks Night

by NestPlaster



Category: The Crow (1994)
Genre: Bathrooms, Dubious Consent, Dubious Personal Hygene, Enlightenment Through Fucking, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, M/M, Mild Blood, Monologue, Past Violence As Pillow Talk, Personal Growth, Philosophy, This Place Is A Dive, Wet Spot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-01-27 02:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestPlaster/pseuds/NestPlaster
Summary: Devils Night is soon; tonight is going to be something a little different.





	1. Skank

"Yeah, I can tell that you like this."

Tin Tin leaned forward, his breath hot in Skanks ear. Skank had his head turned to the side, so that he could still draw some ragged breaths even while pushed down hard against the mattress. His open lips rasped against the cheap fabric of the pillowcase as his body was rocked back and forth by the efforts of Tin Tin. As a tiny spot on the pillow moistened below his mouth Skank thought he could taste the history of the room -- fear and lust and pleasure taken, not given.

His open eye could see the tip of a knife. The blade would be hovering just above his cheek, and Skank pressed himself down just a little deeper into the sour embrace of the bed. Last time Tin Tin marked his face the gang had made fun of him relentlessly while it healed. Sometimes the spot still itched a little if he thought about that night too hard.

"Nice and deep, isn't that right." Tin Tin moved the blade closer to take up the space and nudged his hips forward. There was nowhere left for Skank to go, but he tried a little, while making sure to keep his hips up nice and high. Tin Tin liked a little bit of a fight -- but only a little bit. "You liked it when I got my blade nice and deep in that bitch last night, isn't that right." Even after all this time Skank felt stretched too wide with Tin Tin, and he gripped the stained bedsheet with hands like talons as Tin Tin rocked his hips forward. "Nice and deep. Right to the hilt."

Skank felt his vision narrow to the point of the blade inches from his eye, felt his being collapse inwards while still opening up for Tin Tin. Time seemed to collapse into blackness.  


* * *

  
Skank was thankful to find the bathroom at the end of the hall empty. For once, the light was working, and he leaned forward close to inspect himself through the grime caked on the glass. His face is OK, he thinks. Maybe a little scratch hiding behind the stubble of the week. It might even just be from rubbing at his face looking for blood, maybe he caught a fingernail. He should clean it, but there hasn't been soap up here for as long as Skank could remember. Maybe he could sneak a little dish soap from the kitchen.

Skank jumped as someone pounded on the door of the bathroom, once, hard. "Come downstairs when you're done and maybe I'll buy you a drink sweetheart" called out Tin Tin, loud enough for anyone on the floor to hear. Skank tensed but heard Tin Tin stomp down the hall, then downstairs to the bar. Gripping the edge of the sink he tried to hold back the tears.

Skank hated it when Tin Tin brought out the knife like that, hated it when Tin Tin cut him.

Right now Skank hated himself too, but he knew he wasn't going to change anything. He was going to go downstairs and hope that he could pretend to belong with the other guys for a little while. Once he got his wits together. He just needed a little longer here.  


* * *

  
Skank hears the stream of urine striking water in the toilet without even realizing that someone else had entered the cramped bathroom. He had lost track of time again, and his fingers felt stiff as he carefully relaxed his grip on the edge of the sink and stopped staring into his own eyes. They were a little red, and he quickly rubbed the back of a hand against his face. His cheek stung a little, and he remembered that he really should clean that ... clean whatever that is, just in case.

"Skank!" drawled T-Bird as he swung back around the flimsy particleboard partition separating them. "You're gonna go and miss all the fun if you don't get down to the party!" He punctuated the message with a hard slap to Skanks shoulder. "Ain't that right Skank?"

The question was rhetorical, and Skank wasn't sure why he looked up at T-Bird instead of down at the floor like he normally would. The scared, sheepish grin he normally wore wouldn't come, and Skank felt himself freeze in place as for once T-Bird seemed to really look at him -- the real him.

The music downstairs paused between songs and the silence made the cramped bathroom feel like a confessional. Moments later a throbbing bass made the floor shake beneath their feet again. Skank hunched his shoulders, looked down, and tried to become as small as he felt.


	2. Skank: A Way

"Aw, c'mon Skank." T-bird leaned in close, the joking glint in his eyes fading. They were flat and dead as they made contact with Skank. "You know it don't mean nothin, Skank. It's just Tin-Tin's way."

Skank glanced upwards, then quickly back down. "It's the knife T-bird, I tell him I don't like"

"Skank." T-bird drawled, the words creeping low and dripping with a quiet menace. Skank could smell the sharp tang of bar tequila on his breath. "We all got our ways, Skank."

"I know T-bird" Skank replied, glancing up and gaining momentum. "That's it ain't it T-bird, we all got our ways. Tin-tin has his knifes, and ain't nobody party like Funboy, he knows how to have a good time don't he T-bird." Skank let out a nervous laugh and stood a little taller in the moment.

"And you got your car, you love that car T-bird." Skank was near babbling now. "And me T-bird, what's my way. I'm the skank T-bird, I ain't go no way." Skank's eyes glinted with a near manic light as he pressed onwards. "My way is the way of whoever wants to use Skank."

T-bird raised a hand and Skank flinched, but it was only rested on his quivering shoulder. Skank could not remember a more tender gesture in recent months -- at least, not without him sprawled naked and quivering on a stained bedspread shortly before someone left the room.

"It ain't much of a way T-bird" concluded Skank, "ain't much of a way. But at least it's a way to be in the gang. It's all I got T-bird and I'll take it."

T-bird looked straight at Skank, his eyes like black stones. Skank could see the single bulb illuminating the bathroom reflecting off them, but couldn't see inside. "Skank," T-bird said with a hard voice Skank couldn't read in the slightest. "We ain't going back to the party just yet Skank."


	3. Skank: At Peace

"We're gonna head back to the room Skank, just you and me."

T-bird's voice betrayed no emotion, his expression was perfectly flat. His arm reached out and held the door open, revealing a hallway defined by threadbare carpet, peeling wallpaper, and the erratic flicker of an incandescent bulb hanging on to life despite a terrible upbringing. Skank felt his shoulders pull in as he walked out past that steely gaze and turned away from the stairs leading to the salvation of a public space.

The door to the room is still ajar, only a shadow on the peeling paint revealing the number that once adorned it. Skank pressed it open and stepped across the threshold, not daring to look back and check if T-bird has followed. In a way, he knows, T-bird can be the cruelest of them all. Funboy enjoys suffering, and Tin Tin drinks it up with the thirst that frightens them all. T-bird seems to just act, sometimes as needed and sometimes with motivations that remain entirely opague.

Skank can't guess what T-bird has in mind, but is more afraid of turning around than of stepping forward.

Skank feels the palm of a hand between his shoulders as he steps through the doorframe, and it is almost a relief to know that T-bird is still there to guide him towards the bed with subtle pressure. The hand gives only the slighest hints and Skank focuses to obey, finding himself guided to the foot of the bed, looking down over the stained mattress he only just escaped. He can still see a wet spot in the middle.

The memory of the pillow comes back, the smells and the texture, and the flash of the blade is just beyond the periphery of his memory when T-bird presses forward and down. Skank crawls forward onto the mattress, palms skirting the spot in the middle, and breathes a sigh of relief as the present re-asserts itself.

The mattress shifts as T-bird moves onto it, but again Skank doesn't look back. His vision zeroes in on the pillow before him as a familiar hand presses his neck downwards until his check nestles in to the rough fabric. Skank imagines it as still warm from his tears earlier, and it seems almost a comfortable refuge. Skank focuses in on the stripes in the fabric as T-bird reaches around to loosen the cord threaded through the loop on his pants. Calloused fingers brush roughly along his hips as the slacks are pulled down, just enough to expose him to the hot moist air of the room.

"Skank." T-birds voice drawled out for the first time in a seeming eternity, and it was as casual as it was an absolute command. "Hand me the lube, Skank." Skank reached out to the nightstand, careful to keep his face down and ass up, and scrambled with his fingertips to pull the pump top bottle of lube into his greasy palm before passing it backwards. It was a relief to feel it plucked from his tenuous grip, and a blessing to feel the cool river run down his cleft -- not everyone was this generous. There was enough that he couldn't even feel the callouses on T-birds fingers as the lube was worked deep inside.

Skank could feel T-bird as he entered properly. Not quite the scale of Tin Tin, but a presence that announced him as the alpha of the pack as certainly as a wolf pressing his teeth against a vein. Skank sighed and rocked back slightly; he felt the ache deep inside, but not rocking back would be worse.

"You're lost Skank, poor Skank, lost in the wilderness of the city." T-bird seemed to speak as much to the room as to Skank, although they were the only people there. T-bird worked his hips like a metronome, like a performance engine at a slow idle. Skank felt the slow build of pleasure deep in his core and struggled to stay silent.

"You've gone and strayed, Skank, strayed from the path." T-bird refused to speed up or slow down, his fucking as flat as his voice. Skank slowed his breathing to match the pace of the hard cock sliding back and forth, and wondered for a second if this was intentionally before another minute jolt of building pleasure chased the thought from his mind.

"It's bad for the team Skank," T-bird explained patiently. Skank focused on a spot of peeling wallpaper across the room, cheek pressed into a familiar hollow in a familiar pillow. "They start to wonder about their own ways" T-bird continued, "and ask questions. You remember last time Tin Tin asked questions, Skank?" T-bird paused his hips as he paused his speech, then resumed with an thrust of authority, "We don't need Ti Tin wondering about his path again Skank. It ain't good for none of us."

The metallic zing of the blade extending sent a shiver down Skank, from the base of the skull to the tip of his tailbone. He felt himself tense up, and felt T-bird pause as he clenched tightly around him. Out of the corner of the eye he caught the glimmer of the switchblade, the tip descending towards his face even though time had stopped. The air felt heavy and close. "We all got to know where we live, Skank. Our place in the city defines us."

"We all got to know our way, Skank." T-bird rode the line between question and statement, leaving no room for a verbal response, and Skank tried hard to relax and inhale. The knife drifted downwards like a feather on the wind and T-bird found his rhythm, closer and closer. Skank closed his eye and opened it again. The blade settled against his cheek, gentle as a snowflake landing on a calm winter night. Skank felt his vision narrow to a point, as sharp as the tip of the knife, and then expand out in a blur that seemed to encompass his body, their bodies, the room, the city. Skank breathed out slowly, relaxed every muscle in his body, and knew with all his heart.

Skank was Skank, and Skank could live with that.


End file.
